


the way your hands were shaking

by Trigonometrical



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trigonometrical/pseuds/Trigonometrical
Summary: Brian’s spent the last twelve years looking at the soulmark on his wrist, so he knows without a doubt that it’s obscured completely by Pat’s hand—not because Pat’s hand is larger, but because Pat’s hand is a perfect fit.
Relationships: Brian David Gilbert/Patrick Gill
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65
Collections: Polygon Remix Challenge April 2020





	the way your hands were shaking

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [starts just where the light exists](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891745) by [polyside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyside/pseuds/polyside). 

> Of course I was gonna remix the one about hands, fellas. Thank you polyside for letting me play around in this soulmate AU!
> 
> Title from "Blue and Yellow" by The Used.

Brian’s never moshed before. He’s done a lot of dances over the years, some of them more physically involved than others, but he’s never properly _moshed_. Jenna and Pat are outraged. Simone snorts at the idea of him getting tossed around with his Disney prince haircut. But they teach him to mosh after filming one day, Jenna and Simone bumping his shoulders, all three of them jumping to some unknown thrash music coming from Pat’s iPhone. Pat even gets into it a little with Allegra and Simone, all of them laughing and shaking their long, good hair, Pat’s hands landing on their shoulders and heads and arms.

The ache for Pat’s touch isn’t a constant one, but sometimes it catches Brian off guard. Mostly, Brian wants Pat to feel _comfortable _around him, like he’s allowed to seek out touch and the reciprocation of it. Partly, though, Brian still wants Pat to _touch _him. Pat has a juniper lotion that he wears during the cold winter months, and Brian pretends he doesn’t notice his own sudden fondness for gin. The images come easily, the firm grip of Pat’s palm on his hand, his neck, his cock—his hands all _over _Brian, _in _Brian—

And that’s when he falls, trips on his own two feet thinking about Pat fingering him open. Hopefully not his _last _thought, he has time to wonder, when his head bumps against the hard concrete floor. But no, he’ll live to trip and fall another day. His shoulder _smarts _where he braced himself. He’d realized what was happening too late to remember his stage combat training and fall on his forearms. And his watch broke, which is a bummer—he’s had that one since college, since the Christmas when he and Jonah were still kind-of a thing.

Brian rolls over and tries to push himself up onto his hands, already joking about how he’s _Brian Dances Poorly Gilbert_, but his shoulder twinges and he falls back down with a huff. It’s embarrassing that he can’t shake this off like he normally does, bounce back springier than ever. But then Pat’s hurrying over, his hand outstretched to help Brian up, and Brian.

Brian lets him.

Pat’s hand closes around Brian’s wrist and he pulls, yanking Brian to his feet in a way that doesn’t necessarily _help _his shoulder, but Brian doesn’t even feel it. Brian’s spent the last twelve years looking at the soulmark there, so he knows without a doubt that it’s obscured completely by Pat’s hand—not because Pat’s hand is larger, but because Pat’s hand is a perfect fit.

Allegra gasps, and then there’s a hush that falls over the room as Pat realizes what’s happened. His eyes get impossibly wide, his heart starts _pounding_, which Brian can feel because Pat’s hand is still gripped tight around his wrist. He looks panicked, almost, when Brian finally locks eyes with his. Like his whole world rearranges itself in that split second, like he’s undoing decades of beliefs with a single touch.

So Brian smiles gently, his eyes crinkling, because how could he not when Pat looks so awe-struck by the perfect way their hands fit together? He lifts one of Pat’s fingers from his wrist, and the gold underneath isn’t _blinding_, but damn does it feel radiant.

Simone starts to cry. Of course she does.

\---

“You—didn’t hit your head, right?” Pat asks, which isn’t what he _wants_ to ask, not really, but he _does _want to make sure Brian doesn’t have a concussion in the midst of Pat’s world reforming around him. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his damn chest.

“A bit,” Brian says, his eyes still crinkled in that gentle smile. “But I got a thick skull.”

“Or a big head,” Allegra snarks, before she’s shushed by Jenna. There’s movement behind Pat, and Brian’s eyes slide away from his for a moment—_wait, no, come back_—and then the door opens, and three pairs of feet shuffle out, and then Brian’s eyes are locked with his again.

“You gonna let go, big guy?” Brian asks. Pat’s still holding Brian’s wrist, isn’t he. Huh.

“Sorry,” Pat mumbles, but he doesn’t let go. “I—sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Brian asks, tilting his head.

Pat pauses, considers. “I don’t know,” he says.

Brian brings his other hand up to Pat’s shoulder, brushes off some imaginary dust from the collar of his flannel shirt. Pat’s breath shakes out of his body. He’s wanted Brian to touch him for ages, longer than he even admitted to himself, but now that it’s here, now that it’s _here_, Pat doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” Pat admits, his fingers twitching against the warm pulse point at Brian’s wrist.

Brian’s eyes flash, and his grin quirks in a very self-satisfied way. “Touch me,” he says.

So Pat does.

His hand leaves Brian’s wrist, and Pat only catches a glimmer of gold from his own palm before he cups it around Brian’s cheek, his fingers sliding up into Brian’s soft, _so _soft hair. “Yes,” Brian sighs, his eyes slipping closed, “Mm, Patrick.”

And that’s—well that’s—Pat couldn’t be expected to _not_—

Their mouths fit together as perfectly as their hands. Pat pulls Brian’s bottom lip gently between his own, soft sighs spilling from Brian’s tongue as Pat takes decadent, lush time learning the shape and curve of Brian’s mouth. It’s _achingly _slow, Pat _aches _to feel Brian’s jaw working underneath his palm, the stretch of Brian’s neck as he tilts his head to access a spot that makes Pat whimper.

It’s Brian who takes the leap to deepen the kiss, but Pat happily tumbles over the cliff after him. Brian tugs their bodies even closer, gets one arm spidering up the center of Pat’s back and _presses_. Pat’s other palm cups Brian’s face, bracketing both sides of his jaw because he _can_, now, he can touch Brian like this and other ways besides. But right now he wants _this_, Brian crashing their mouths together, parting his lips so Pat can drink his fill.

Brian’s hands roam, never settling anywhere on Pat’s body, wanting to touch and feel and sense every bit of Pat that’s been locked and kept away. Pat’s hands, meanwhile, are steadfast and sure on Brian’s face, a grounding point, a lighthouse in a summer storm. Pat licks across the roof of Brian’s mouth, trusting his gut—_soulmates, hah_—and Brian moans, the sweet sound reverberating through Pat’s fucking _skull_, trembling its vibrations all the way down to his toes.

He’s getting hard, and they shouldn’t be doing this here, and they _should _be talking about their stance on soulmates, politics, religion, pineapple on pizza, all the first-date things and second-date things and three-years-of-dating things, and—

“My place or yours?” Brian says, breathed against the corner of Pat’s mouth, and then he grins, and _Pat _grins, and they can feel it pulling at each other’s lips.

When they rush out of the office and onto the street—that whole time, past their coworkers and God and everyone—they don't let go of each other’s hands. Golden hour light filters between the buildings around them, and Pat tugs at Brian’s wrist to pull him in for a quick, walking kiss, and Brian goes easily, eyes glinting all the while.


End file.
